


For You, Creator

by raisedbymoogles



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Masturbation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/pseuds/raisedbymoogles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyclonus wishes Unicron hadn't died. Not that quickly, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You, Creator

He would start with those horns. They had been the majority of Unicron's sensory system, designed to pick up a wealth of information from the minute particles and harsh radiation of deep space. They would be fun to break, little by little, making sure every sensor felt the agony as Cyclonus ripped them apart with blades and whips and his own hands. Besides, they looked like a crown. Only Galvatron wore a crown.

The facial appendages next, perhaps; Cyclonus knew how sensitive they were from playing with Scourge's. The facial appendages, the mouth that had consumed his lord but failed to keep him down, perhaps gouging out his optics with a Death Crystal cannon just for fun - and he hadn't even thought about what he would do to the  _body_  yet.

Cyclonus panted harshly, one hand gripping his own antenna, the other buried in his circuitry. He could almost hear Unicron's reality-shaking howls of agony ripping through his systems (he'd only heard/felt that sound once, and it had been far too short and far, far to little), and the memory of it was enough to set his energy surging in a kind of sweet anger. Their creator had died violently, but it had been quick, and not nearly painful as he deserved for the pain he had inflicted on his first creation, Cyclonus's lord.

Squeezing his antenna, Cyclonus lost himself in his fantasy once again. "Unicron," he rumbled to the memory of his creator, "you created me to be Galvatron's follower. Now see how well I fulfill my function - as you die under my torture, for Galvatron's amusement..."

Energy flared, and Cyclonus arched up into his own hands with a groan. Yes.  _Yes._


End file.
